


Game Over

by ifyousaysodearie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1212379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifyousaysodearie/pseuds/ifyousaysodearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night that Sherlock went to meet Moriarty at the pool where Carl Power's had died he receives the biggest and last shock of his life.  AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Over

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy reading this. Please don't hate me XD - sometimes my brain does evil things.

The dim light reflected in the darkened swimming pool, hints of it rippling over the water. Sherlock looked in all directions around waiting for his rather twisted fan to meet him. He was certain that Moriarty could not refuse the invitation after setting up such an intricate game. Waiting for several minutes silently, carefully listening for the sound of a door creaking or foot falls. He heard neither but he saw a shadow grow on the wall and he watched intently for it’s owner to appear.

What he saw next would shock him truly to his core. The shadow belonged to John Watson. Confusion, his brain jamming not able to make sense of why John would be here now. He was in a dark navy suit, well tailored and he almost looked out of place in it compared to his usual jumpers. For several long seconds Sherlock tried to make sense of his friend standing across the room. 

Seeing the wide-eyed expression on Sherlock Holmes’ face was enough to make John’s lips curl exaggeratedly in he corners. Looking like a cat who caught a canary and breaking the silence. “Surprised, Sherlock?”

Sherlock stood there stunned still, unable to form words for what seemed an eternity. “John? Why are you here?” He asked a bit dumbly.

"Oh, come on, you’re more clever than that." John spoke flatly as he took a few steps forwards and nodded towards the windows high above the pool.

A red dot that belonged to a laser scope was now flitting about the sleuth’s chest. “How?” The singular word cracked in Sherlock’s baritone. 

"What do you mean how?" John grinned again, looking Sherlock over with smug satisfaction. "You were with me, you should have been able to figure it out. I was right about you though, you’re fantastically ignorant." He chuckled.

"No, no don’t worry I still think you’re brilliant Sherlock. You just fail to notice things. Important things." John’s eyes bore into the detective. "You’re clever enough, maybe too clever for your own good. You fail to see things that you think beneath you though. Typical narcissist trait."

Sherlock shook his head, this was not the John he had been living with for months now. This was not the good doctor, the brave soldier. This made no logical sense and he was processing the other man’s words too slowly for his own liking. “What did I fail to notice?” His brained gnawed to make sense of it as he asked the question.

"Everything. How convenient was it that a complete stranger was willing to move in with you? That should have been a give-a-way there honestly I thought about giving up on the whole thing when you were helping me unpack." John continued to explain as the laser danced on Sherlock’s chest. "I’ve been following you for some time though, couldn’t give it all up because you’re an idiot."

"Stop it." Sherlock glared, he sounded wounded. "The taxi driver. The driver said he was working for Moriarty."

"Yes, Moriarty." John scoffed. "Sounds elegant doesn’t it. You called me elegant back at The Yard. Made me smile. Moriarty was just a name, something to distract you."

"No." Sherlock shook his head now. "No, I researched you after you moved in. Your name is John Watson, you were trained at Saint Bart’s and you served in the war of Afghanistan. You are a good man, you wouldn’t strap bombs on people."

John shrugged. “Well you got most of it right anyhow. Yes, I’m a doctor, a soldier but there’s more.” Seeing still that Sherlock was refusing to accept this.

"You have to understand Sherlock, I was bored. The way you get bored. Yes the war was fun, Saint Bart’s was interesting enough." His voice held a sickly-sweet sing-songy tone. " But there’s only so much sanctioned violence and cadavers can do to pass the time. I needed something to chase away my boredom. That’s when I started to follow you. Watched how you worked, lived with you and really got to study everything that goes on in that funny little head."

John breathed through his nose, frustrated that Sherlock hadn’t solved this puzzle before he had to reveal himself and explain it so detailed. “Honestly I expected you to figure me out by now. It all goes back to things you don’t notice because you’re too wrapped up in believing yourself the end all and be all of intelligence. You didn’t even notice me sending out a text every time you managed to solve one of my riddles. Didn’t notice me popping out to set up the next puzzle because you needed to be alone playing tea-party in your mind-palace.”

Sherlock was standing there letting it sink in. These words were genuine, John was the one who had been his ‘fan’. John was behind more than a dozen deaths just in recent history. John Watson, the one man he considered his friend was a fraud. “What was the point of all of this? Months of planning if you could have killed me in my sleep at any point.”

His new enemy laughed wryly. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as elegant Sherlock. I guess it was fascination really. How easily you saw through most of me but missed all the important parts.” Leaning against one of the orange lockers carelessly. “It was easy, too easy if I’m being honest with you. Once you believed me to be a simple-minded soldier who suffered from a psychosomatic limp, the rest was just playing along really. Letting you believe as always that you are right.”

"What’s your end game?" Sherlock tensed, wanting to murder John Watson.

"Haven’t figured out that part out either then?" John took a few steps closer now, barely a foot away from Sherlock. "I’m going to kill you. Well my sniper is really I’m just going to enjoy watching it."

Sherlock knew if he moved a muscle that the trigger aimed at his heart would be pulled. “The first case I took you on, that night you saved my life. Why would you save my life if you meant to kill me?” Something that felt like tears were in the slender sleuth’s eyes.

"Do you think I’d let a cabbie take away my new favorite toy just when I had started to play with it?" John’s voice was twisted with glee. "Had to have my chance to give you a proper run around first."

Closing the last bit of distance between them. Watching Sherlock ball his hands into fists. “Uh-uh none of that.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval and his eyes scanned in the direction where the red beam of light was coming from. “Wouldn’t want him to shoot you before I’m finished with what I have to say.” Raising his hand John cupped Sherlock’s cheek. Leaning in, his lips against the sharp angle of his jaw as he whispered. “If only you were as brilliant as you believed yourself to be. You disappointed me Sherlock.” John kissed his cheek and laughed lightly. “I’m sorry Mr.Holmes but the game is over.” He pulled away and with a small gesture of his hand there had been the sound of a sharp crack that echoed in the swimming pool. 

A bullet had found it’s home in Sherlock’s chest. The detective looked blankly at John Watson, his mouth moving as if to say something before he fell forward. The detective had been defeated, completely out witted by an insane man who he had somehow grown to care for. The one man who he had thought kept him right was the one person who turned out to be his undoing. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his skull cracked against the hard flooring. Everything had gone black, he was bleeding out and in moments he had died. 

John Watson stood there watching the blood spread and make its way to mingle with the water of the pool. Sighing after several minutes and going to a locker, taking out an over-sized green parka and a vest armed with explosives. Putting on the vest carelessly and the parka over it. Taking out his mobile once he had his outfit completed and dialing emergency.

"999 What’s your emergency?" Asked a calm female voice.

"Yes—uh my friend…my friend he’s been shot. We need an ambulance." John’s voice was desperate and shaking, putting on his best act. "W-we need a bomb squad as well, I’ve been hooked up to explosives."

John tuned out the operator who was telling him to remain calm. He was already quite calm. Satisfied as he thought to himself that he still had one more Holmes brother to play with.


End file.
